MOODS AND EMOTIONS 



IN 



RHYME. 



By H. a. R. 



BOSTON 

CROSBY, NICHOLS, AND COMPANY, 

HI, Washington Sikeet. 
1855. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by 

CROSBY, NICHOLS, A^^) COMPANY, 

In the Clerk- s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



BOSTON: 

PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 

22, School Street. 



TO 



®ttr Jriettirs il^z g^efospap^rs, 



IN WHOSE COLUMNS THESE POEMS FIRST SAW THE LIGHT 



THIS VOLUME 



IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

The Shadow 1 

Cbiticism ^ 2^ 

OuB Ancestors .3 

Home-Charity 7 

A Ballad 9 

A Smile 13 

Childhood 14 

My Pipe 15 

The Broken Idol 18 

Catechism 19 

To Annie 21 

Weariness 23 

The Daguerreotype 25 

The Hunter's Song 27 

To THOSE WHO passed THE FUGITIVE SlAYE LaW . 29 

To 31 

Duty 33 

To A Gifted Singer 34 

Contrasts 35 

The Promise 37 

Love 38 



VI CONTENTS. 



Youth 39 

Doubt 40 

Impromptu on the Death of Sir Thomas Moore . 41 

The Owl 42 

Armor 43 

Sadkess .. 4 «•••••• 44 

Pexnies 45 

The Lass of Sachem's Head 47 

Her Home 49 

Remembrance 51 

Love 53 

Distrust 55 

To A Fellow- Worker 57 

The Modern Philosopher 59 

Song 60 

Stanzas 61 

The Tyrant 63 

Reflections 66 

To A Poem 68 

Forget 69 

Song op the Bachelor 71 

A Prize-Tale 73 

A Dirge 76 

Bereatement 77 

Conscience 79 

Charity 81 

Return 83 

A Lament 84 

Melancholy 86 

To 87 

A Dream 89 

Kindness 91 

My Mother 92 

A Fable 93 



CONTENTS. VU 

PAOS. 

To A False Keformer 95 

A Fragment 96 

Heart and BLind . 97 

To MY New Friends 100 

A Sleepless Night . . . . . . . 102 

Song 105 

Confidence 106 

To A Fugitiye Sla-sbe remanded . . . . .107 

To A Bridegroom 109 

Parting . 110 

To 112 

Old Letters 114 

The Law of Attraction 116 

A Picture 117 

To A Tall Girl 119 

To A Vain Girl .120 

To A Pretty Girl 121 

Battle-Song of Uncas . . . . . . . 122 

Humbug . . . 124 

Intolerance . . 125 

To Lizzie 126 

Constancy 128 

Translation from Horace 129 

Popping the Question 130 

To 132 

Dedication to a Commonplace Book . . . .134 

A Love-Song 136 

The Sigh 138 

Heroic 140 

Absence 142 

My Native Stream 144 

To A Robin . . .146 

The Memories op Youth 148 

A Kind Word . . 150 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

PAGE. 

A Student's Ide^l. op Comfort 151 

Despair 153 

To . . .155 

My Book 157 

A Loghouse Lyric 159 

A Complaint 161 

The Missive ........ 163 

Home-Happiness 165 

E-emember the Poor 167 

«*She sleeps" 169 

Letters 170 

Thoughts at Sunset 171 

The Bachelor's Mistake 173 

Jealousy 175 

The Charge 176 

Nature's Solitude 179 

An Epitaph 181 



MOODS AND EMOTIONS. 



THE SHADOW. 



Upon my mind's horizon, 

In the morning light it lay ; 
On the very verge of fancy. 

In the distance far away : 
And as it lay there floating 

'Mid visions new and warm, 
I had no thought the tiny thing 

Would ever bring me harm. 

But I learned, ere evening gathered. 

That vapor may contain 
In its shining folds, in a sunny sky. 

The coldest kind of rain ; 

1 



3 CRITICISM. 

That what we deem too trifling 
To mar our happiness. 

Is often but the bursting germ 
That grows to wretchedness. 



CEITICISM. 



Give the pots of thy neighbor a rigid inspection 
You'll see by so doing, on a little reflection. 
The flaws in thine own will escape detection. 



3 



OUR ANCESTOES. 



LiST^ ye modern men and maidens^ 
To the burden of my song : 

I will tell ye all how silly 
People were in days agone. 

Think not I with sacrilegious 

Pen would sully their good name. 

Or a single ink-drop spatter 

O'er the brightness of their fame. 

But at many of their customs^ 

Which were most absurdly queer. 

My rebellious nose will turn up 
With a disrespectful sneer; — 

For in those benighted ages 

Ladies dressed so loose and free. 

That their forms were moulded just as 
God intended they should be. 



OUR ANCESTORS. 

They, in their infatuation. 
Carried this to such degrees, 

Burst they never hook or button 
When indulging in a sneeze. 

Little knew they of the graceful 
Pipe-stale figures they might bear, 

Had they only been as witty 
As our more enlightened fair. 

And they saw no sense or reason — 
Pity them, ye modern belles ! — 

In the wearing whole dry-goods stores. 
To attract the brainless swells. 

And, will ye believe it, fair ones, — 
Ye who sleep on downy beds ? — 

In those barbarous times, the ladies 
Wore their bonnets on their heads ; - 

Were so foolish as to deem it 
Common sense to wear them so ; 

Never dreaming they were fashioned 
Only for a senseless show. 



OUR ANCESTORS. 

And they simply called them bonnets ; 

Somehow strangely thinking that 
They would not be deemed vulgar 

If they did not wear a hat. 

And the men (benighted creatures !) 
Promenaded through the town, 

With their pants so loosely fashioned 
That they could with ease sit down ; 

Wore upon their heads a covering 
Made for comfort and for ease ; 

Scorning the unique ^^ram beaver : " 
What unmitigated geese ! 

I believe — the barbarous fellows ! — 
They would think us very clowns, 

Could they see us skilful poising 
These huge steeples on our crowns. 

When these heathens met together. 

As we moderns often do. 
To indulge in social pleasure. 

And to court the lassies too, — 



6 OUR ANCESTORS. 

(As I hope to die a Christian, 
What I tell is strictly true ; 

Though^ no doubt^ 'twill seem a fiction, 
Modern men and maids^ to you)^ — 

All their thoughts and words and actions 
Were endowed with common sense : 

Modern beaux have learned full wisely 
With such folly to dispense. 

They set up a curious standard, — 
That the mind bespoke the man ; 

But we know it can't effect it 
Half so well as tailors can. 

So you see I have not slandered 
Men or maidens in then' grave ; 

Shown you only how absurdly 
Our forefathers did behave. 

Then how dearly should we cherish 
Our more wise, enlightened ways ! 

How rejoiced we were not born in 
Those absurd and vulgar days ! 



HOME-CHAEITY. 



Why go o'er the sea a-giving 
Foreign beggars needed alms. 

With so many paupers living 

At our doors with outstretched palms ? 

Blessings are by no means purer. 
Though they from afar have come ; 

Nor than this an adage truer, — 
^^ Charity begins at home." 

There are thirsty deserts nearer 

Than Sahara's wilderness ; 
And o'er them our way is clearer. 

And our duty none the less. 

There is many a bitter grieving 

In the hovel o'er the way ; 
Many a pang for our relieving 

Cometh to us day by day. 



8 HOME-CHARITY. 



Pity, then, need not go hieing 
For a practice o'er the sea : 

It can find, without much trying, 
Enough at home of misery. 



9 



A BALLAD. 



" Ah ! the traitor need not boast him that my 

foolish heart is broke ; " 
And the maiden's eyes flashed brightly and 

proudly as she spoke. 
" Though I trusted in the promise that his lying 

lips did tell. 
And believed, that as I loved him, I was loved 

by him as well ; 
Though mistaken in the idol which my foolish 

heart had set 
Up for more than idol-worship, I will whisper no 

regret. 
He shall never know the anguish which his faith- 
lessness hath brought. 
Nor enjoy a smile of triumph o'er the ruin he 

has wrought. 



10 A BALLAD. 

I will show him, by my conduct, by my free and 

happy air. 
How an insult to her feelings a woman's heart can 

bear; 
I will show him, — yes, I'll show him ; " and 

the maiden set about 
Rubbing from her heart-leaves tender all love's 

dear impressions out ; 
For by being always merry and the gayest 'mong 

the gay. 
Thought the very foolish maiden, she would 

drive them all away ; 
She would go among the thoughtless, — they who 

never pause to think, — 
And amid a whirl of pleasures, would of Lethe's 

waters drink. 
'^ I can do it ! I will do it ! " and the maiden 

proudly spoke ; 
^^For the traitor shall not boast him, that my 

foolish heart is broke." 
Yet, despite her words of gladness and her ring- 
ing laugh of mirth. 
Lived that maiden, 'mong the thoughtless, the 

saddest thing of earth ; 



A BALLAD. 11 

For despite her resolutions^ would her thoughts 

go back again 
To that false^ and yet beloved one^ she was trying 

to disdain. 
Often, when admirers listened to the merry songs 

she sung. 
Would the music-notes of gladness seem to falter 

on her tongue ; 
Often, when her joy seemed speaking from her 

sparkling eye of blue. 
Would a tear there strangely glisten, and speak 

its language too, — 
A language, though in silence, that most plainly 

did express 
How the maiden's bosom nourished the germ of 

wretchedness, — 
That germ so deeply planted by the base deceiver's 

art. 
That it fed and grew and flourished on the ruins 

of her heart, — 
A heart whose only error, if error such can be. 
Was a wild devotion unto him, whose faults she 

could not see. 



12 A BALLAD. 

And^ traitor ! wouldst thou know her fate, — go, 

when the silent night 
Revealeth yonder tombstones with pale, sepulchral 

light; 
Go sit upon the dewy turf, and read aloud the 

lie. 
Upon those stones engraven, as to wherefore she 

did die. 
If thy traitor-heart remembers, it will tell to thee, 

in truth. 
The disease that crushed her happiness and life 

in early youth ; 
And if thou in thy heartlessness hath no repent- 
ant thought. 
Enjoy a smile of triumph o'er the ruin thou hast 

wrought ; 
But if of godlike manliness thou hast a shadow 

yet. 

Oh ! breathe above her sleeping dust thy murmurs 
of regret. 



13 



A SMILE. 



There is a power — a mystic power 

That glows within a smile ; 
That's felt in dark misfortune's hour 

To brighten and beguile ; 
That lends the soul a kindly cheer 

When sorrow's blasts blow high. 
And drives away the pensive tear 

That dims the downcast eye. 

It, too, can curse as well as bless ; 

Can blight as well's beguile ; 
For it doth unbelief express. 

And scorn looks through a smile. 
It cheers, it brightens, and beguiles ; 

Can flatter and disguise ; 
It blights, it blackens, and reviles ; 

It damns, and it defies. 



w 



14 



CHILDHOOD. 



Can I forget that happy day, 

When hand in hand we roved together ; 
When not a cloud obscured our way, 

But all around was sunny weather ; 
When every star that shone at eve 

Seemed radiant with love and gladness, 
And untried hope could not believe 

The future would bring aught of sadness ? 

Forget it ! 'So : remembrance will. 

Through every phase of this world's seeming, 
Bring back those hours of childhood still. 

With all their varied pleasures teeming ; 
And dearer yet, as then more dark 

May grow my morning, noon, and even. 
Will they become, where'er my bark 

Shall be on Life's drear ocean driven. 



15 



MY PIPE. 



Why has my harp so long been hushed, 
And wherefore mute my tongue. 

While yet thy virtues and thy charms 
Remain, old friend, unsung ? 

It may not be ; for I will fill 

Thy quaint capacious bowl 
With weed, whose balmy fragrance can 

Delight and lull my soul. 

And I will draw my easy-chair 

Before yon blazing hearth ; 
And there, in soft, luxurious ease, 

I'll muse upon thy worth. 

'Tis now full nigh a score of years 
Since first thou didst delight 

My sanctum with thy virgin charms, — 
Didst bless my eager sight. 



16 MY PIPE. 

And since, we have been constant friends, 
'Mid Fortune's varied weather ; 

Have, like the ivy and the oak. 
Braved all its blasts together. 

So when I, from my fireside bright. 

Look back upon the past. 
And mark how oft its fairest scenes 

Misfortune's clouds o'ercast, — 

My heart, with honest, friendly warmth. 
Goes out to thee, old friend ; 

For thou didst to my troubled soul 
Sweet, soothing solace send. 

And oft, when gloomy doubts and cares 
Came crowding on my brain. 

And life seemed only, at its best, 
A burden and a pain, — 

Thy genial influence hath subdued 

My agitated breast ; 
Hath banished every boding ill. 

And lulled my heart to rest. 



MY PIPE. 17 

And thou hast shared my merry mood 

As well as saddened vein. 
And as promotive art of mirth 

As comforting in pain. 

And as I watch thy smoke in strange, 

Fantastic forms ascend, — 
That seem to writhe and twist and nod. 

And oddly bow and bend, — 

The air seems peopled with a train 

Of Fancy's fairy fays. 
Where oft my Muse doth cull the gems 

That ornament her lays. 

Let no one censure, then, the love 

I bear, old friend, to thee. 
Nor sneer because I celebrate 

My pipe in poesy. 



18 



THE BROKEN IDOL. 



At its shrine we'd been kneeling so long, — 
Of our earnest devotion a token^ — 

That we could not believe such worship was 
wrong, 
Or our idol conceive could be broken. 

Father ! forgive, if vows, to thee due, 

We gave to that idol of earth : 
We bear thy reproof in the fragments that strew. 

And the gloom that overshadows, our hearth. 



19 



CATECHISM. 



On earth's broad, laborious field. 

Brothers, are you ready 
All your aid to promptly yield, 

With courage true and steady ? 
Have you schooled your hearts to bear 

Danger, sorrow, anger? 
Will they quail not anywhere 

In life's battle-clangor ? 

Can you meet the haughty glance 

Pride will often fling you. 
Trusting not to fickle Chance 

Your redress to bring you ? 
Can you work, with earnest zeal. 

In humble fields of labor. 
And no foolish envy feel 

Towards your wealthy neighbor ? 



20 CATECHISM. 

Are your purposes most high. 

Not mere base and sordid ? 
Boldly can you live and die. 

By men unrewarded ? 
Do you feel each word and deed 

Thus should represent you. 
That, if rightly judged, your meed 

Of praise would well content you ? 

Have you learned this noble creed. 

As a guide for living ? — 
Have an open ear to need. 

Ready hand for •giving ; 
Courage that with ready feet 

Will prompt you to go ever 
Always your half-way to meet 

Any good endeavor. 



21 



TO ANNIE. 



Lovely being ! when before me 

Flits thine image ever bright, 
Pleasant thoughts come stealing o'er me ; 

Swells my soul with pure delight. 
Though not oft, indeed, I've met thee. 

Though a stranger to thy way. 
Yet I vainly would forget thee, — 

All in vain my feelings sway. 

I have gazed on many a maiden. 

Decked in Beauty's fairy form. 
Bright as sparkle flowers dew-laden 

At the hour of rosy morn ; 
Free as trips the foot of childhood ; 

Graceful as the wild gazelle ; 
Gay as warblers of the wildwood ; 

Pure as lilies of the dell. 



22 TO ANNIE. 

Yet e'en as the moon's soft beaming 

Fades before the god of day, 
So thy beauty, brightly gleaming. 

Drives them — lesser lights — away. 
Then, oh ! let thy bright beams never 

From my path fade quite away ; 
But, contented, let me ever 

Bask beneath their genial ray. 



23 



WEAEINESS. 



Weaky of this ceaseless striying 

For earthly happiness ; 
Weary of these vain contrivings^ 
Of these plots and cold connivings ; 
Seeking^ and yet ne'er arriving 

At the goal, — success. 

Weary of this slavish fawning 
At God Mammon's shrine ; 
^^ Weary waiting " for the dawning 
Of the freedom-blushing morning 
That old tyrants have been scorning 
With their ^^ right divine." 

Weary of this patient waiting 
For dreams to be fulfilled, — 



24 WEARINESS. 

Dreams that have been hourly sating 
Faith and hope^ the heart elating ; 
One another one creating. 
Till the brain was filled. 

Weary of this mournful sighing 

O'er the vanished past ; 
Singing dirges o'er the dying 
Flowers upon our pathway lying. 
That did bloom, the stars outvying, 

Till their sky o'er cast. 

Weary of this steady facing 

Ills, for sake of fame ; 
Weary of this fruitless chasing 
Hopes ; and with our fingers tracing. 
For the idle winds' erasing. 

On the sands our name. 



35 



THE DAGUERREOTYPE. 



Brightly shines her blue eye on me. 

As it shone in days gone by ; 
Lips and cheeks that half undone me, 

Brow and bosom, all are nigh, — 
All with that content expression 

Pretty maidens' faces take, — 
Maids who think it no transgression. 

Should they cause one's heart to break. 

Wilful, you would say, the owner 

Was of such a lip and eye ; 
And you'd swear so, had you known her 

Half as long or well as I. 
Conscious of the power within her. 

Hearts she rules with regal sway ; 
And 'tis best for saint or sinner. 

Who values his, to keep away. 



26 THE DAGUERREOTYPE. 

Will they, — do they, — has the schooling 

Some have got yet taught the rest 
How much fun there is in fooling, 

When a damaged heart's the test ? 
No : methinks around her thronging. 

As they did some years ago. 
The million come with fruitless longing : 

Bright-eyed maiden, is't not so ? 



n 



THE HUNTER'S SONG. 



Let poets sing of war and love. 
And rave about fair woman's eyes ; 

Let delving bookworms strive to prove 
What no one's common sense denies ; — 

Let statesmen spout and pea-nuts eat. 
And wisely frown and swear and fight ; 

Let lawyers deal in damned deceit. 

And stoutly swear that black is white : - 

Their various joys I envy not ; 

Ah, no ! I'd not be one of 'em ; 
For, by the world, how soon forgot 

Is every mother's son of 'em ! 

But give to me the hunter's life. 

Where baying dogs and bounding doe 

Dispel the thoughts of worldly strife. 
And bid man's nobler feelings flow. 



28 THE hunter's song. 

I love, I love the merry chase. 

The opening pack, the winding horn. 

The antlered monarch of the waste 
Stretched lifeless on the dewy lawn. 

Let others kneel at Pleasure's shrine. 
And boast the raptures of a ^^ spree ; " 

But, ah! a hunter's joy be mine, — 
A hunter's merry life for me ! 



29 



TO THOSE WHO PASSED THE FUGITIVE 
SLAVE LAW. 



Tyrants ! would ye overawe 

Justice, honor, reason. 
By a semi-barbarous law. 

Making it high treason 
For an honest man to aid 

An escaping brother. 
Whom accursed wrong has made 

Slave unto another ? 

Dare ye impiously proclaim 

That your cause is just. 
And with perjured lips defame 

Freedom's glorious trust ? 
Is't your mission to sustain, 

Fos^ter, cherish, nurse, 
"Wrong proved o'er and o'er again 

Nothing but a curse ? 



so FUGITIVE SLAVE LAW. 

Though your acts may now compel 

The North to bend the knee. 
The veriest fool may tell 

What the end will be. 
Eight and reason, soon or late, 

Will surely win the race ; 
And your law, with sin its mate. 

Be branded with disgrace. 



31 



TO 



Lone in a stranger land 

Is he to-night : 
Bright though the stars be, 

He heeds not their light. 
Gone is his yearning heart, — 

Gone o'er the sea ; 
Back where it should have been, - 

Ever with thee. 

Where are the ^^ golden dreams " 

Which he hath chased. 
Leading him far away 

Over Life's waste ? 
Now, when above its sea 

Skies have grown dark, 
ffis soul, like a weary dove. 

Hies to its ark. 



33 TO 



Is thy mind faithful 

To memory yet, — 
Thou one from the million 

He cannot forget ? 
Now, when his sleepless eyes 

Tears have made dim, 
Hast thou a single thought. 

Maiden, for him ? 



33 



DUTY. 



Unpledged to the law of party ; 

Unswayed by the foolish fear. 
That, of all the good it doeth, 

There's few in the world will hear. 

It stands by the couch of anguish 
In the chill and cheerless home ; 

And its voice and look of kindness 
Bless all unto whom they come ; — 

Leaves not a path untrodden ; 

Leaves not a chance untried 
To throw o'er those benighted 

The light of a welcome guide ; — 

Nerves many a heart, nigh broken 

By the crushing weight of ill. 

To battle with life's misfortune 

With a high and brave hope still ; - 
3 



S4 TO A GIFTED SINGER. 

Works not for the slave opinion ; 

Heeds not the public sneer ; 
For God is the only master 

And critic it seems to fear. 



TO A GIFTED SINGER, 



Song is sweet, O gifted singer ! 

Every heart-chord it doth wake : 
At thy shrine we workers linger^ 

Bound by spells we cannot break. 
Not by Beauty's dazzling vision 

Dost thou draw our souls to thee ; 
But by moments half Elysian, 

Listening to thy melody. 



35 



CONTEASTS. 



Ah ! what is life ? A varied scene 

Of pleasure and of pain. 
Of hopes and joys, that cheer to-day ; 

To-morrow, fly again. 

Now o'er the landscape of our life 

Hope sheds a genial ray ; 
The sun of love unclouded shines; 

And all is glorious day. 

Now gloomy clouds of sorrow shade , 
The landscape once so bright ; 

And not one star of gladness lights 
The soul's dark, dreary night. 

Now calmly flows the tide of life 
Adown the stream of time ; 

And, all along its banks, bright flowers 
And vines in beauty climb. 



36 CONTRASTS. 

Now threatening storms howl o'er its wave ; 

Its billows foaming roar, 
And, in their maddened fury, lash 

And desolate the shore. 

To-day, the heart beats quick with joy. 
And life seems — oh, how sweet ! 

The earth seems fail', and lavishly 
Casts pleasures at our feet. 

To-morrow, gloom is in the soul ; 

Life seems a dreary waste ; 
Earth smiles not ; fled are all the joys 

But yesterday we traced. 

All, all is change, — a varied scene 

Of pleasure and of pain. 
Of hopes and joys, that cheer to-day ; 

To-morrow, fly again. 



37 



THE PROMISE. 



She hath spoken the vow 
That binds them together ; 

And her lips on his brow- 
Have sealed it for ever. 

Not a shadow of fear 

On her young heart is lying ; 

But that joy she has here 
"Will live on undying. 

With faith deep and strong 

In the love which hath bound her. 
She feareth no wrong 

From the ill world around her ; 
For^ should sorrow e'er come. 

And false friends forsake her, 
Hath she not got a home 

In his heart to betake her ? 



38 LOVE. 



Hath she not? The reply 

Is with him who hath won her, 
Who can heap misery 

Or enjoyment upon her. 
Then will he betray 

A faith so abiding. 
Or by coldness repay 

A heart so confiding ? 



LOVE. 



Is there one among those, ^^ the chosen of fame/' 
For whose brow a bright garland the Muses 
have wove. 

Who has not, in the effort of winning a name. 
Owed much for success to the magic of love ? 



39 



YOUTH. 



How bright are the pleasures that gladden our 

youth, 
When the soul knows no sorrow, the heart is all 

truth ; 
The mind full of freedom, unshackled by care ! 
The earth seems all sunny, the future all fair ; 
No clouds cast a gloom o'er the sun on its way, 
As it brightens the landscape of life into day, — 
The face beaming pleasure, the eye lit with joy ; 
No cares for the morrow, to mingle alloy 
With its purest of pleasures, its fulness of mirth, 
'Tis the May-day of life, the Eden of earth ! 
How sad would its brightest^ its best moments 

prove. 
Had not the AU-Wise, in his wisdom and love, 
Cast a veil o'er the future of sorrow and care 
Gay youth ne'er suspects is awaiting him there. 
E'en as the smooth surface of waters that flow 
O'er eddies that trouble their dark depths below ! 



40 



DOUBT. 



So it seems^thou dost doubt 

In my love for thee, dearest : 
Though, thou speakest not out. 

There is something thou fearest. 
By that sigh, on the night 

When alone we were straying. 
Know I fears, not quite right. 

In thy breast need allaying. 

Thou dost doubt ! I perceive. 

By thy voice's low tremble. 
That thou dost believe 

That my heart doth dissemble : 
I perceive that the hours 

Of reliance are flying ; 
That the ^^ leaves and the flowers '^ 

Of true love are dying. 



IMPROMPTU. 41 

Thou dost doubt ! 'Tis a foe 

That is coming between us : 
From the wound of his blow 

There is nothing can screen us. 
Lest our faith it remain 

In each other unshaken. 
Love's joy, not its pain. 

From our bosoms is taken. 



BIPEOMPTU ON THE DEATH OF SHI THOMAS 
• MOORE. 



The sweetest bard that ever sung. 
The unwelcome hand of Death 

Gathered his ghastly crew among. 
When Moore resigned his breath. 



42 



THE OWL. 



The owl^ I presume^ is a poet ; 

For lie seems to be always in thouglit ; 
And the foolish allurements of pleasure 

He wisely esteemeth as nought. 
And when night its mantle of darkness 

O'er hill and o'er valley has flung, 
A thinker, his thoughts seek expression. 

And his heart finds its way to his tongue. 

'Mid the boughs of some forest-tree olaen. 

All the day he sits brooding alone ; 
And little for ^^ sayings " he careth, 

If he be undisturbed in his own. 
Away from the world that is merry. 

He thinketh with earnestness deep 
O'er the wisdom he gathers from nature 

When the rest of the world is asleep. 



ARMOR. 



43 



And I fancy I see a resemblance 

'Twixt many a poet and he ; 
Since, in much of the singing of either. 

How few are there beauty can see ! 
And yet, such resemblance to balance. 

This difference there certainly is, — 
The owl hoots his own rhymed numbers ; 

The poet is hooted for his. 



ARMOR. 



Choose for thy helmet, not a steel plate, but brass : 
Though not quite as strong, yet the latter one has 
A more fitting look for the brow of an ass. 



44 



SADNESS. 



In my bosom sorrow reigneth ; 

Soul and sense are sick with, care ; 
Bitterly my heart complaineth 

At the load it needs must bear. 

Oh ! there are, amid earth's pleasures. 
Hours of bitter gloom and grief. 

When our dearest worldly treasures 
Bring to sorrowing no relief ; — 

When the soul, o'erwhelmed with sadness. 

Calls on earthly aid in vain 
To restore its wonted gladness. 

To revive old joys again. 

Then, oh ! let — since earth no cheering 
Proffers to the saddened breast — 

Let our hearts those realms be nearing 
^^ Where the weary are at rest." 



45 



PENNIES. 



Gather them up, and scatter them kindly : 

Many a beggar will thank you for one ; 
Many a fortune ye're seeking so blindly 

From sources as trivial as these was begun. 
Gather them up, but not for the rusting 

Of the pile safely guarded by padlock and chain; 
But gather and give them, and wisely be trusting 

That treasure so scattered will come back again. 

Gather them up, though the world call thee miser 

To see thee so careful to find every cent ; 
Gather and give them, and it will grow wiser 

And better, we hope, ere you have them all 
spent. 
Gather them up, wherever they ofier. 

By plough or by anvil, by desk or in stall ; 
Gather and give them, despite of the scoffer. 

And time will repay thee for each and for all. 



46 PENNIES. 

Kindness to those who may chance to need any, 

In the smoothest of pennies, may be shown by 
you; 
Gather them, then, no matter how many ; 

For the more that you have, the more you may 
do. 
Mites though they are in the bucket of treasure. 

Scorn not the trifles, but bless them for aye ; 
Much they can win you of Heaven's own pleasure. 

If only you get them, and give them away. 



47 



THE LASS OF SACHEM'S HEAD. 



In memory clings her image yet ; 

Though merry months have fled 
Since first, 'midst Pleasure's throng, I met 

The lass of Sachem's Head. 

Hers was an eye that quick the heart 

A willing captive led ; 
Such heavenly glances did impart 

The lass of Sachem's Head. 

Hers was a form divinely fair ; 

And, o'er her queenly head. 
In tresses strayed her jetty hair, — 

The lass of Sachem's Head. 

Hers was a laugh so full of glee. 

So merry all she said ; 
A most bewitching fair was she, — 

The lass of Sachem's Head. 



48 THE LASS OF SACHEm's HEAD. 

None ever knew her but they loved ; 

None ever saw but said, 
'Twas vain to gaze upon, unmoved, 

The lass of Sachem's Head. 

I saw her charms ; her gaze I met ; 

And o'er my soul was shed 
A spell that binds in memory yet 

The lass of Sachem's Head. 

And till the sun of life shall set. 
Till soul and sense are sped, 

I vow I never can forget 
The lass of Sachem's Head. 



49 



HER HOME. 

[A letter literally rendered from one actually in the author's possession.] 



Just imagine, Sir Knight of the goosequill, — 

You who while away hours oftentimes, 
Forgetfulness trying to distil 

From random ideas and rhymes, — 
Just imagine a ^^ white house," one story 

And a half, by true measurement, high. 
Rather faded from primitive glory. 

And the outline is then ^^in your eye." 

The outline established, proceed then. 

With a hand that is honest, to fill 
Up the picture. Let's see : you will need then 

To be told that it stands on a hill. 
Just back from the road, with a door-yard 

Filled up with rose-bushes and trees : 
Facts enough to make even a poor bard 

Glow with frenzy poetic, are these. 



50 HER HOME. 

Though there is none, yet still, as a poet 

Who by license hath done so before, 
Imagine a woodbine, and show it 

As climbing and shading the door ; 
And a lattice (not window), embowered 

'Mong grape-yines and flowerets sweet : 
Of each and of all you're empowered^ 

With the fullest discretion, to treat. 

And, last, you may quietly hint of,^ 

Not an angel, but merely a girl. 
Living here, whose cheeks have the tint of 

The rose, and her teeth of the pearl ; 
Whose eyes, though at best ^^ common blue ones," 

At least flash some glances, that say. 
All the throbs of her heart, they are true ones 

For one who is long miles away. 



51 



REMEMBRANCE. 



I'm thinking of that summer-time, 
When, with joyous steps and free. 

We roamed, repeating some well-known rhyme. 
By the wild and wondrous sea ; 

When love, in the flush of youthful prime. 
Was all to you and me. 

I'm thinking of those walks by night 
When the moonlight shone so clear ; 

When heaven seemed sending its own delight 
To earth's sin-shrouded sphere ; 

And all that was lovely and pure and bright 
Seemed unto us how near ! 

I'm thinking of vows we whispered then 

By the wild and wondrous sea. 
Afar from the eyes and ears of men. 

As ever such vows should be, — 



52 REMEMBRANCE. 

Yows that were uttered again and again, 
That they might not broken be. 

I'm thinking of that which fills the place 

Of many a burning vow ; 
For a sneering lip, and a passionless face, 

And a cold, unchanging brow, 
On which Memory seems to print no trace. 

Is all that is left me now. 



53 



LOVE. 



Oh ! sweet it is to have one heart. 
One bosom, all thine own, — 

One soul still firm and true to thee. 
When other friends have flown ! 

Oh ! if the earth can give one joy. 

If life has aught of bliss. 
It is when cheered by woman's smile. 

Enraptured by her kiss. 

The heartless wretch may scoff at love, — 

May scorn its purest ray ; 
But, oh ! the soul that's pure must own. 

Must bow before, its sway. 

I ask not for the world's applause ; 

I care not for its frown : 
Its joys are all too cold for me ; 

A bawble its renown. 



54 LOVE. 

I ask but for one faithful heart. 

One being fond and true : 
Ah ! then, cold world, farewell, farewell ! 

And all your cares, adieu ! 



55 



DISTRUST. 



Oh ! it hatli come to blight 

Our flowers of love just blowing ; 
And we shall feel no more delight 

On the life-voyage we are going. 
The far too fond belief, 

We'd found earth^s purest treasure. 
Hath fled ; and deep-abiding grief 

Our hearts now only measure. 

A gulf between us lies ; 

A treacherous bridge hangs over ; 
For always, to distrustful eyes. 

Dark doubts and dangers hover. 
By frequent jest and smile. 

We scofi" what the world is saying ; 
But vainly ; for a fiend, meanwhile. 

Upon our lives is preying. 



56 DISTRUST. 

Regret — it cannot now 

Restore love's chain so rended, — 
Renew again the burning vow : 

They are broke, ne'er to be mended. 
Our faith and hope, which in days 

Gone by were linked together. 
Are going now, by devious ways. 

To meet no more for ever. 



57 



TO A FELLOW-WORKEE. 



Thy hand, my brother-toiler : 

There's something in its grasp 
That tells me 'tis no shadow 

Or useless thing I clasp ; 
But the lever of an earnest will. 

Of an honest heart and true. 
That finds in this world labor ; 

And, finding, dares to do. 

Thy lips haye learned to whimper 

No thoughts thou canst not feel : 
Upon thy brow was never set 

Hypocrisy's false seal. 
There's a candor in thy bluntness. 

In thy rugged form of speech. 
Worth more than all the smoothness 

False etiquette can teach. 



58 TO A FELLOW-WORKER. 

Then take my hand, my brother. 

And an earnest word of cheer. 
To make more strong thy growing hope 

And confidence of fear. 
There's many a real honor 

Thy honest brow should wear ; 
And yet thy hand will earn them. 

If thy heart does not despair. 



59 



THE MODERN PHILOSOPHER. 



He is not one who gives to care 

His idle thonglits or idle hours : 
His heart is proof against despair. 

And lightly beats 'mid sun and showers. 
The ills of life cannot destroy 

This faith, — within him ever burning, — 
That life is but a lasting joy, 

Which all might share, were they discerning. 

And so, unheeding taunt or sneer. 

Or gloomy doubt or vain regretting. 
He lives contented in his sphere, — 

No anxious cares his bosom fretting ; 
Believing all as idle stuff 

The talk of sorrows never-ending : 
The world for him is good enough. 

And also towards a better tending. 



60 



SONG. 



" We shall meet again. 



The seal of death is on my brow : 
Ah ! must I go, and leave thee now ? 
Yet let thy heart from grief refrain ; 
For, loved one ! we shall meet again. 

Oh ! I have loved thee, dearly loved ; 
And ne'er my heart a truant roved : 
But, ah! believe, 'twas not in vain; 
For, loved one ! we shall meet again. 

Adieu, adieu ! Fast ebbs away 

The tide of life that nerves this clay : 

I go yon starry world to gain ; 

Yet, loved one ! we shall meet again. 

Yes : in those blissful realms above, — 
Where all is peace, where all is love. 
Where ne'er our hearts shall know of pain. 
There, loved one ! we shall meet again. 



61 



STANZAS. 



CoNDEMisr not hastily : unto the erring, 
A word of kindness often may do good : 

^^Do better, brother/' is a voice recurring 
In daily talk less often than it should. 

Why steel the heart, why turn the scornful 
shoulder. 

Against the man already cowed by shame ? 
Our cold contempt but makes the sinner bolder ; 

Our pity might perhaps redeem his fame. 

Give but one word, — a simple, earnest token, — 
That tells him there is, within a human breast, 

A link of love for him as yet unbroken. 
And he reflects : repentance does the rest. 

Like us, he may have been all joy and gladness 
In other days, when life to him was young ; 



63 STANZAS. 

When childhood dreamed not of his manhood's 
madness, 
The chords of human feeling all unstrung. 

Like us, he may have had a sister, brother. 

With whom he sported and was guileless then ; 

Like us, he must have known the love of mother ; 
In kindly words, he hears her voice again. 

And this is all : there is no use in wreaking 
Our scorn on sinners, — sinning to contemn ; 

But, by the words of kindness we are speaking. 
Save often those whom others would condemn. 



63 



THE TYRANT. 



" Old Winter has come ! The wind is his whip ; 
One choppy finger was on his lip : 
He had torn the cataracts from the hills ; 
And they clanked at his girdle like manacles." 

Shelley. 



Closed was the bloodless yet fatal fray ; 
And the victor cold had secured his prey ; 
And his banner waved, all icy and white. 
O'er vanquished stream and surmounted height. 

And the blooming fields of the summer, where 
Its tents had been pitched, were frozen and bare 
By lake and by stream, in nook and in cleft. 
Not a vestige of what had been there was left. 

And the stern old warrior smiled to see 
How complete he had won his victory ; 
And he inly said, '^ He's a ruler poor 
Who a conquered realm fails to make secure." 



64 THE TYRANT. 

And his edicts proclaimed, ^^ ^ "War to the knife ' 

Was the war I waged life against life : 

I've won ; and the losers cannot complain 

If I cripple them now, lest they harm me again." 

So he straightway disarmed and he slew them 

all,— 
The young, the brave, and the beautiful ; 
And so subtle was he, that he could not trust 
In death itself; so he guarded their dust 

With double chains ; for it seems he had heard 
And believed what so many considered absurd, — 
That the slave may die at the master's hour. 
But his spirit still live to oppose his power. 

So he guarded their dust with his chains of frost : 
^^ The forfeit is mine, and shall not be lost," 
Said he : and his brow it grew cold and raw. 
And his breath the same ; and they both were law. 

Yet, despite of his chains and his power to kill. 
Despite of his guards and his stubborn will. 



THE TYRANT. 65 

The captives escaped one morning in spring, 
And challenged to battle the stern old king. 

And the edict went forth, ^^ War to the knife ! " 
And the stern old chief prepared for the strife ; 
But he soon discovered he had no friends. 
And his courage oozed out at his fingers' ends. 

So he slunk away ; and his chains were broke 
From the dust they bound : and the dust awoke ; 
And the graves he had peopled gave up their 

dead ; 
And the summer's tents were again respread. 



66 



EEFLECTIOXS. 



AwAY^ away with notes of mirth. 

And cease the festive strain ; 
For sorrow stirs within my soul ; 

There's sadness on my brain. 
Ah. ! what though wealth and power are ours^ 

And all the earth deems great ; 
When dark Misfortune's tempest lowers. 

They aid it, not abate. 

When sorrow hovers round our path. 

And life seems bleak and bare ; 
When any ill has stung the heart. 

And left its venom there ; 
When Death, the ruthless reaper, comes 

To break some kindred tie ; 
And sin its toils throws round the heart. 

Till it writhes in agony ; — 



REFLECTIONS, 67 

Say where, at such a time, O man ! 

Is all thy boasted power ? 
It fades, and sinks to nothingness. 

E'en as some blasted flower. 
But wouldst thou consolation find, 

Wouldst calm thy sorrows all. 
Then learn to love and trust in Him 

Who heeds the sparrow's fall. 



68 



TO A POEM. 



Offspring of an hour of sorrow, 
Though there's many a rugged line 

Traced upon thy thoughtless forehead, 
Still I love thee ; for thou'rt mine. 

Though deep thought and strange expression 

Do not in thy face combine 
To entice my soul unto thee. 

Still I love thee ; for thou'rt mine. 

Though a stranger's eye may coldly 
Gaze upon these words of thine. 

And his lips proclaim them faulty. 
Still I love thee ; for thou'rt mine. 

Though to hearts no solace bringing, 
That, o'erwhelmed by grief, repine. 

Still I cannot help but love thee 
For the bliss thou brought'st to mine. 



69 



FORGET. 



Throw obKvion o'er the past : 

If, perchance, it lingers yet. 
No happier trait thy bosom hast, 

I'm sure, than that thou canst forget. 
A single thought I would not claim 

Now when thy passion all is o'er ; 
But, bonded with thy banished n^me. 

Let by -gone hours return no more. 

Of present bliss we ought to feel 

Enough to satisfy the soul. 
And not let past enjoyments steal 

Into our hearts to dash the bowl. 
With many a future joy untried. 

No doubt more pure than those we've met. 
It should not be to us denied. 

If so it pleases, to forget. 



70 FORGET. 

And, since the future offers thus 

As much of joy, and may be more 
Than all the past^ is't not to us 

A lesson we should not ignore ? 
For, while we go towards future bliss 

With beating heart and willing mind. 
Could there be sweeter thought than this ? — 

"We've left, at least, much pain behind. 

Then do not think that I complain 

In secret o'er your disregard : 
I frankly ask you for disdain ; 

And this one prayer you'll not discard. 
For, when you grant it, well you know 

That I, like you, am truly able 
Past hopes and joys and loves to throw. 

As useless trash, "'neath Memory's table." 



71 



SOXG OF THE BACHELOR. 



Give me the good old bachelor. 

The merry and the free, 
Who laughs at matrimonial cares. 

And loves his liberty. 

No household cares are his to mourn ; 

No fretful dame to please : 
No laughing rogues, with noisy glee. 

Disturb his reveries. 

In peace he sits him down at eve. 

Enjoys his good cigar. 
And muses o'er the joys and ills 

Of life, of love, and war. 

And, as before his cheerful fire 
He reads his cherished ^^ Flag," 

And sympathizes with the tale 
Of moralist and wag, — 



72 SONG OF THE BACHELOR. 

How many luckless wedded wights 
Would give their all to be 

As happy as that bachelor. 
As merry and as free ! 



73 



A PRIZE-TALE. 



WouLDST thou get the greatest prize 

Offered for man's winning. 
Be for once a little wise 

In thy tale's beginning. 
Write not for a transient page. 

Nor for gold or glory ; 
But fill up, from youth to age. 

The plan of a life-story. 

Turn, while there is time, the leaf 

Of life on which you write it. 
That there may be no future grief 

Will have power to blight it. 
Let thy conscience be the light 

By which thy steps are wending ; 
And thou wilt surely weave aright 

The plot unto its ending. 



74 A PRIZE-TALE. 

Upon the path of duty go. 

Critics all unheeding ; 
And be content this truth to know. 

That tales the world is reading 
Are not of teachers yet the best. 

Although most schools receive them 
Let real acts thy merits test ; 

No one will disbelieve them. 

Crush never an impulse of thy heart 

That prompts thee to a kindness ; 
And, when thy readers from thee part. 

They will not part in blindness 
Of merits which thou didst possess. 

And practise for the healing 
Of many a poignant wretchedness 

That others had in feeling. 

And so adown Life's river glide. 
Thy deeds of love not stinting ; 

But all around, on every side. 
Be ever thus imprinting 



A PRIZE-TALE. 75 

A chapter new of your life-tale. 

With not a blur to stain it ; 
And, soon or late, you cannot fail, 

Whate'er the prize, to gain it. 



76 



A DIRGE. 



'Tis holy ground ! Tread lightly here 
Above our friend, the early lost ; 

Than whom none was, can be, more dear 
To us while on Life's ocean tossed. 

So very pure her inmost thought 

Looked out from her deep-azure eyes, 

That we believed its truth was caught 
From her pure sisters in the skies. 

And was it not ? Could angel be 

On earth more like a child of heaven. 

Live here with less impurity. 
Or die with less to be forgiven ? 



77 



BEREAVEMENT. 



'Tis night ! All sad and lonely, 
I sit me down, and sigh; 

For joys that came, came only 
When she I loved was nigh. 

There is a certain feeling 
Of loneliness and gloom. 

That, o'er my senses stealing, 
Infects the very room. 

The fire burns not as brightly. 
Gives not its wonted cheer ; 

And all things seem unsightly. 
Dark, desolate, and drear. 

The very clock ticks sadly. 
Like the throbbing of a heart. 

That, tired of life, would gladly 
From all its woes depart. 



78 BEREAVEMENT. 

So strange my mind's conjectures ; 

Such phantom shapes appear ; 
The very chairs seem spectres. 

Grim, ghastly, sunk, and sear. 

And all along the ceiling, 
As if they joyed to mock 

My saddened flow of feeling. 
Foul sprites and goblins stailk. 

'Tis night ! All sad and lonely, 
I sit me down, and sigh ; 

For joys that came, came only 
When she I loved was nigh. 



79 



CONSCIENCE. 



Come up to duty ! Conscience is shaking me ; 
Close by the heart-strings familiarly taking me ; 
In my ear whisperings perfectly audible, 
^^Thou must do something at last that is laudable," 

Now she will put off my action no longer : 
Surely she speaks to me, as if the stronger ; 
Powerfully threatening, — somewhat conceited, — 
In case of refusal, just how I'll be treated. 

Towards the fulfilment of threats she now hinges ; 
Light though they be, these are evident twinges : 
Memory, too, seemeth bent on inspecting. 
Under her eye, what I've long been neglecting. 

Pity has turned a quick ear to her bidding. 
With tears in profusion for every one needing : 



80 CONSCIENCE. 

She has gone — though in truth she might have 
done worse things — 

Straight to my pocket, and opened my purse- 
strings. 

Now, while the tears and the money are flowing, 
Learn I this truth, which is surely worth know- 
ings- 
Conscience is gentle : only be pleasing her ; 

Do it but once, and nothing is easier. 



81 



CHARITY. 



Self-needing so much, we may not deny 

Our neighbor who asks it to-day : 
His motives are pure as our own, if we try 

To see them in that sort of way. 
Though there be no great evil, perhaps, if we 
should 

Think our own way the wisest and best. 
There is nothing of justice — no, nothing of 
good — 

In condemning as false all the rest. 

These motives are things that are hard to find out, 
Though it is now so easy to blame ; 

And wherefores, of which we know nothing about. 
We judge as if all were the same. 



82 CHARITY. 

But the whys and the wherefores we hold quite 
too cheap : 

In the current of Life they deep flow ; 
And acts that come bubbling up from that deep 

Are all of them oft that we know. 

And, while friendship fails often to find out by 
them 

The true secret cause of their birth. 
The bitterest hatred should never condemn 

That cause as without any worth. 
There are many good traits in a foe, as a friend. 

Would we read upon both sides the tale ; 
And the better way is over both to extend. 

With equality. Charity's veil. 



83 



RETURN. 



Friend of my soul! return, return! 

From home no longer stray.: 
My heart is sad, I feel alone. 

When thou art far away. 

Slow drag the weary hours along. 
That once were light and gay ; 

For now the light that made them bright 
Has faded from my way. 

And though I kneel at Pleasure's shrine. 

And join the festive throng, 
'Tis all in vain ; for my sad heart 

Still whispers, ^^ Thou art gone ! " 

Then hasten, hasten to thy home ; 

From me no longer stray : 
My heart is sad, I feel alone. 

When thou art far away. 



84 



A LAMENT. 



Thy words of hope no more I hear^ 
That filled my soul with courage true ; 

Thy gentle hand no more is near^ 
To pilot me Life's darkness through. 

A seal upon thy lips is set ; 

Thine eyes will never more awake ; 
The tears with which my own are wet. 

Their fearful slumbers cannot break. 

The silken cord of love, that bound 
Our souls as one, is torn apart ; 

And, through the depth of grief profound. 
Alone I journey with my heart. 

Yet still remembrance treasures up. 

Of love's sweet chain, each trifling link ; 

And, though I drain of grief the cup. 
It is relief at least to think. 



A LAMENT. 85 

How true was each fair promise kept, 
Whate'er the storm, to cling together ! 

Then why could not the wave, that swept 
One overboard, have ta'en the other ? 

But no : they come in such disguise. 
Though many joys they separate. 

Oar blessings meted from the skies ; 
And we must learn to bear our fate ; — 

Must learn, bee-like, to gather good 
From what seems bitter in the mass ; 

And trust — oh that all sorrow could ! — 
The promise, that the cup shall pass. 



86 



MELANCHOLY. 



The stars are looking down to-night 

Upon a sober face. 
And eyes that cast dull answer back 

Show not of joy a trace ; 
For a secret gloom is welling up. 

From the heart unto the lips. 
And the light of many a happy hour 

Lies in a dark eclipse. 

'Tis strange, that, when to ardent hope 

One's heart is fully bent. 
As worshipper unto a shrine. 

With strong and pure intent. 
That foolish whims have power to start 

Afresh forgotten fears. 
And to fill our cup of promise up 

With gloom and grief and tears. 



87 



TO 



Hail to thee, absent one ! 

Bright from afar 
Shines still thy gentle light. 

Sweet guiding star ! 

What though the Fates unkind 

Tore us apart : 
Lives still thine image, love. 

Deep in this heart. 

Lone as I'm musing, love, 
Through the long night. 

Back to my memory throng 
Scenes oh how bright ! — 

Scenes of those happy days. 

Blest days of yore,. 
When love our lightsome hearts 

Came stealing o'er. 



88 TO 



And dost remember, love. 

That night of nights. 
When through our bosoms thrilled 

Love's first delights ? 

When shine the golden stars 

Down from above. 
Dost thou remember then 

That first kiss of love ? 

And shall those happy scenes 

Leave in the mind. 
Though years may roll away. 

No sweets behind ? 

Vain though the passion be. 

Though hope be o'er. 
Love holds her gentle sway 

E'en as of yore. 

Say, then, 'tis not in vain. 

That from afar 
Shines still thy gentle light. 

Sweet guiding star ! 



89 



A DREAM. 



" For dreams, in their development, have hreath 
And tears and tortures and the touch of joy." 

Byron. 



I HAD a dream the other night : 

And shall I tell you what, love ? 
A dream it was of such delight. 

It ne'er will be forgot, love. 
I dreamed I was — and this was true — 

World-worn by grief and care, love ; 
But, when arose the thought of you. 

My heart w^as light as air, love. 

My room, which had been cold before. 
Without a " bit " of heat, love. 

Soon grew so hot, I kicked the door 
Wide open to the street, love. 



90 A DREAM. 

• 

The chairs began to dance about ; 

As also did the bed^ love ; 
So that, when in, I tumbled out, 

And nearly broke my head, love. 

Of this strange dream I told a friend. 

And asked him to propound, love. 
The reason, and to me extend 

His judgment strong and sound, love. 
He answered, without any sign 

Of wonder, ^^ It is quite, sir. 
Certain you'd been drinking wine. 

And got most cursed ^ tight,' sir." 



91 



KINDNESS. 



Is it not of itself full pay 

For tlie hours ye spend in its doing ? 
Did ye ever hear any one say 

He found from it nothing accruing ? 
Hath experience not taught thee true, — 

Kindness is worth the bestowing. 
Since love and happiness, too. 

Are the fruits that are out of it growing ? 

He who is deaf to its call 

Knows not of earth's pleasures the dearest ; 
And its path, though not crowded at all. 

To heaven, perhaps, is the nearest. 
Though misfortunes have compassed it round. 

By them is the traveller gainer ; 
For, once the path having found. 

They make it remarkably plainer. 



92 



MY MOTHER. 



Her love and her nature were blended. 

And suited each other so well. 
Where the bond which they formed could b( 
mended, 

'Twould be difficult, surely, to tell. 
'Twas a chain so well put together. 

In its strength one safely could trust, 
Nor fear that a change of the weather 

Would weaken its linkings with rust. 
I know not the hour when she bound me, — 

When with this chain she first held me fast : 
I but know that in youth 'twas around me. 

And to age it seems likely to last. 



93 



A FABLE. 



A SQUIRREL he sat on the topmost limb 

Of a fine old hickory graceful and slim : 

For his breakfast he'd run over heather and heath ; 

And now he sat cosily picking his teeth. 

And there, as he sat gently fanned by the breeze 
That rustled the leaves of the old forest trees, 
A poor wounded dove came and perched by his 

side, 
And to his ^^ Good morning " thus, trembling, re- 
plied, — 

" I warn you. Sir Squirrel, to run for your life. 
Lest sorrow you bring on your children and wife : 
A hunter is coming with dog and with gun : 
As a friend, I'd advise you. Sir Squirrel, to run. 



94 A FABLE. 



e( 



Take warning, I pray you, from my bleeding 

breast. 
And hasten away to your leaf-guarded nest." 
" Poll ! poll ! " quoth the squirrel ; ^^ I scorn thus 

to run ; 
I fear not the hunter, his dog, nor his gun." 

" Good by, then. Sir Squirrel, ere yet 'tis too late : 
I go, and I leave you alone to your fate." 
Away sped the dove over heather and heath ; 
And the squirrel sat cosily picking his teeth. 

But soon came the hunter with dog and with gun. 
And then the poor squirrel would gladly have run : 
But a victim he fell to his folly and pride ; 
And, for scorning good counsel, the poor squirrel 
died. 

MORAL. 

"We are apt to forget, in prosperity's hour. 

That round our bright path dark misfortunes 

may lower : 
We neglect to prepare 'gainst an unhappy fate. 
And mourn o'er our folly save when 'tis too late. 



95 



TO A FALSE REFORMER. 



Lamenting o'er the world's decline 

In virtue, wisdom, honor. 
You quite forget that mostly thine 

Are faults you heap upon her. 
Her wide defects you plainly see. 

And boldly preach about them ; 
But still, were fewer like to thee. 

She would be quite without them. 

Reform, reform ! There's none deny 

Its need the wide world over ; 
And yet how few there are that try 

Its secret to discover ! 
How many preaching friends like you 

Would seem to be pursuing 
The right ; and yet, by preaching, do 

Conceal their own misdoing ! 



96 



A FRAGMENT. 



Alone, forsaken, and forgot. 

Thy once-loved one knows nought but sorrow ; 
And in her soul no sunny spot 

Is left to cheer the dreary morrow. 

All, all is dark that once was bright ; 

And, where was heard the voice of gladness, 
A withering, soul-consuming blight 

Hath turned its measure into sadness. 

Oh ! couldst thou all my anguish know, 
Couldst taste the bitter cup thou'st left me. 

Thou wouldst in pity then bestow 

The heart of which thou hast bereft me. 



97 



HEAET AND HAND. 



Much that we covet, and all that we need. 

Of pleasure, of glory, or gold. 
Is ours, if our hearts and our hands are agreed 

To be mutually willing and bold : 
The one to work out with its sinews of might, 

Despite of contempt or disdain. 
What the other has prompted, and knows to be 
right. 

In striving our object to gain. 

Our hearts and our hands, if they only were true 
To themselves, and worked kindly together. 

No matter what ill they were called to subdue. 
They would win, would they only endeavor ; 



98 HEART AND HAND. 

No' matter how many the foes that surround, 

They have hope that should never forsake them ; 
No matter how strong are the chains that have 
bound. 
With a brave hand and heart we may break 
them. 

No hazard in life which we may not surprise. 

And plunder of much that can bless : 
With our hearts and our hands as friendly allies, 

We carry the key of success ; 
And the fortress of Fortune must open its gate. 

When before it we rattle this key : 
With such an ally, no power hath Fate 

To shut out from fame you or me. 

Though ^^ crowded the world," there is room for 
us yet ; 
And labor will still fortune bring ; 
And those who must work, should by no means 
forget 
That Chance is not the world's king. 



HEART AND HAND. 99 

Put the heart with the hand at the laboring oar, 

Wherever thy voyage may be ; 
And Fortune, that's smiled on such efforts before, 

Fear not, but will smile, too, on thee. 

Our hearts and our hands! — oh, strengthen the 
will 

That binds two such levers in one ! 
We have need of them both united, until 

The goal we are seeking is won. 
O dreamer ! who buildeth air-castles so high. 

Let thy hand work the plan of thy brain. 
And thou'lt not have reason so often to sigh 

That thy dreamings have all been in vain. 



100 



TO MY NEW FRIENDS. 



All my thoughts are not my own 

Anywhere to spend them ; 
For they have to wanderers grown. 

And quite often wend them 
Where perhaps I should not say 

Skies than these are clearer. 
But where liveth one to-day 

Than my new friends dearer. 

Blame me not ; since, long before 

I came seeking, asking 
You my faults to cover o'er. 

All your kindness tasking. 
One there was linked me a chain, — 

Some might say a fetter : 
No matter which, I cannot feign 

Aught could please me better. 



TO MY NEW FRIENDS. 101 

Round my heart though you have wreathed 

Flowers of kindness often ; 
In my ears though you have breathed 

Words that heart to soften ; 
Still I frankly speak the vow. 

Though I am not near her. 
Over all new friendships now 

Hers to me is dearer. 



102 



A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 



Sleepless, while around me slumbers 

The broad earth's wearied life : 
Veiled are the forest's varied wonders ; 
Hushed are the wild-bird's thrilling numbers 
Echo now no ear encumbers 

With sound of worldly strife. 

The sky is cloudless ; not a star 

Is from my eye obscured. 
That, shining brightly from afar 
With beauty, time nor change can mar. 
Make me to feel how much they are 

With poetry endued. 

The midnight wind a chilling gloom 

Has breathed upon my brow ; 
As one that's fated, unto whom 
There is no rest before the tomb, — 
As one that dreads some fearful doom 

His fancies half avow. 



A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 103 

The hours move on with stealthy pace ; 

The midnight watch has passed : 
But does yon star disclose a trace 
Of smiles that played upon my face, 
When, starting on Life's unknown race, 

I deemed youth's joy would last ? 

Ah, happy time ! — the time of youth. 

Ere learning to deceive ; 
When sportive Fancy seems the truth. 
Alas ! who cannot say, forsooth. 
That age has shown but little ruth 

To hopes they did believe ? 

Remembrance now, with greatest power. 

Comes o'er the heart again. 
Of those who in a happier hour 
Did fain believe no sky would lower 
To blast the tender, fragile flower 

That bloomed on Friendship's plain. 

'Tis morn ! From o'er the eastern hills 
Peep its first blushing beams ; 



104 A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 

And nature, woke, the valleys fills 
With sweets the morning air distils 
From flowers that bloom beside the rills 
Which form the greater streams. 

Mankind from their sleep, too, are waking ; 

Night's visions have gone by ; 
Music on my ear is breaking, 
Songs of birds, and zephyrs shaking 
Forest trees, most sweetly making 

A blended symphony. 



105 



SONG. 



Cold blew the bleak wind. 

Dark was the day. 
When the form I worshipped 

Passed away. 

Black came the night on ; 

Down fell the rain : 
Heaven, in sympathy. 

Wept o'er the plain. 

Lone was my sad h^art : 
Grief seemed to say. 

Love, hope, ambition, — all 
Passed with her away. 

Nought now upon the earth 

Lures me to stay : 
Yonder an angel hand 

Beckons me away. 



106 



CONFIDENCE. 



It brings to us both bliss and pride. 

When Fortune's smilings leave us. 
To know there's nestling at our side 

One heart that won't deceive us ; 
To know, however bleak the sky. 

However dark and chilhng. 
Sharing our gloom, one still is nigh 

With cheerful heart and willing ; — 

To know there is an anxious care 

In one breast ever glowing, 
Chasing our footsteps everywhere 

In this wide world they're going ; 
Courage, that, whatever ill 

O'er us may frown, will dare it. 
Till we are rescued, or until 

It with ourselves may share it. 



107 



TO A FUGITIVE SLAVE REMANDED. 



Back to your doom ! we cannot now save you ; 

Back you must go to your master and chain ; 
Every effort that's made to enslave you. 

We are reluctantly bound to sustain. 
Only our prayers — heart-prayers — can we lend 
you: 

May they have power to hasten the time 
When those who now wish to may dare to be- 
friend you. 

And the act be a virtue instead of a crime ! 

Back to your doom, with heart crushed and bleed- 
ing ! 
And only this hope to illumine your way, — 
That henceforth, for you, vain is all interceding 
For kindness from those you have dared dis- 
obey ! 



108 TO A FUGITIVE SLAVE REMANDED. 

But throughout the long, weary future, whenever 
The chain or the lash of the tyrant you feel, 

Remember there still are a few who endeavor. 
Despite of enactments, to forward your weal. 

Yes : while you return, with spirit all broken. 

From the life of a freeman to that of a slave. 
Remember our words and our vows are the token 

Of our law-bound, yet burning, desire to save. 
Yes : take to the slave-marts this promise, — that 
never. 

While lingers in bondage but one of thy race. 
Will we retract a vow, or relax an endeavor. 

To wipe from our nation so deep a disgrace. 



109 



TO A BRIDEGROOM. 



I BELIEVE she is earnest and true 

As the needle is true to the pole : 
Not a heart that's unfaithful to you 

Can be hers ; for she gives you the whole. 
Every hope, every thought, every feeling. 

All indeed of herself that's divine, 
Surrendered beyond all repealing, 

Blends her fortune for ever with thine. 

She has faith, — the faith that's abiding ; 

She has hope that no fortune can change ; 
No star but your own for its guiding ; 

No reliance that time can estrange. 
All sunshine around and above her; 

For truth makes the sky always bright : 
Indeed, it's no wonder you love her ; 

No wonder you worship her quite. 



110 



P A E T I N G. 



One moment more ! I cannot go 

Without another word from thee, — 
Another word, that I may know 

Thou ever wilt be true to me. 
I ask it in the bonded name 

Of many past yet sweet delights 
We shared with hearts and hopes the same. 

While watching stars last summer-nights. 

Although beneath as clear a sky 

We sit, and watch their twinkling light, 
I'm sure no star to you or I 

Is robed in half its charms to-night ; 
For love is shadowed o'er by fear 

Of danger that may chance to be 
Concealed within that long, long year 

That I must live apart from thee. 



PARTING. Ill 

But let hope rise to be a star 

Of light, desponding love to cheer. 
Which you at home, and I afar. 

May see, and feel each other near. 
Though Fate our paths of life divide. 

May we not hope, nor hope in vain. 
That both, by time and absence tried. 

With strengthened love, may meet again ? 



113 



TO 



Oh ! chide me not in words reproving 
That my heart, too light and gay. 

Careless sports in bootless roving 
Half of youth's best hours away. 

Oh ! remember, youth is fleeting ; 

Soon its pleasures will be o'er ; 
And its raptures can a greeting 

Bring the sad heart then no more. 

Life is full enough of sadness. 
E'en when taken at the best : 

Age comes on when nought of gladness 
Thrills with rapture through the breast. 

Yes : for, e'en as we grow older, 

FeeUngs and affections chill ; 
And the heart grows daily colder. 

Calloused o'er by many an ill. 



TO 113 

Thoughts and scenes, that bring a pleasure 

In the spring-time of our life. 
Cease in age to be a treasure, — 

Lost, absorbed in worldly strife. 

Then, oh ! let, while yet before us 

Life seems but a sunny way. 
While the sky of youth hangs o'er us, — 

Let our hearts be light and gay. 



114 



OLD LETTERS. 



Read them, if only to bring back the past 

Once more, with its friends and friendships to 
view. 
From out of the shadow which old Time has cast 

O'er first dreams of happiness earnest and true. 
Read them, though age may have wrinkled thy 
brow. 

And sprinkled thy hair all profusely with gray : 
Though severed' the chain of past happiness now. 

Links that are left of it surely are they. 

Read them : thy heart must indeed have grown 
cold. 
And hardened withal, if it feels not a thrill 
Of regret for affection by them so well told. 
And whose place in thy heart perhaps other 
loves fill. 



OLD LETTERS. 115 

The same light of pleasure which once they im- 
parted 
These words of an old friend should give thee 
again ; 
As they did long ago when both were true-hearted. 
And the joys of each one were the joys of the 
twain. 



116 



THE LAW OF ATTRACTION. 



I SAW but once that eye of blue : 

Mere accident it was that brought it, 
With all its liquid light, unto 

The windows, as I paused and caught it. 
Just like a star, it shone between 

The blinds, that merely stood asunder 
Enough to let its ray be seen 

By one, like me, who travelled under. 

Spell-bound, I paused a trifling pause, — 

Not longer, may be, than a minute : 
I cannot now explain the cause ; 

But still there was much rapture in it. 
Although she quickly did withdraw. 

Whene'er she saw me looking at her, 
I learned this truth, — that Newton's law 

Rules eyes as well as earthy matter. 



117 



A PICTURE. 



The sunny hills, — how gay are they ! 
The laughing rills look bright to-day ; 
The air is clear ; no zephyrs play ; 
But all is calm and bright and gay. 

Just see before yon cottage-door 
That youthful group, as, gamb'ling o'er 
The grassy plain, they sport away 
The hours of this most lovely day. 

Look where you will, o'er valley, hill. 
O'er lake or lawn or rippling rill. 
Each object fair that meets the eye 
With each in beauty seems to vie. 

But, hark! the thunder's deafening crash. 
The lightning's quick and vivid flash. 
Burst forth upon this beauteous scene 
With rumbling roar and fiery sheen. 



118 A PICTURE. 

And now the rain falls thick and fast ; 
The wind sweeps by, — a dreary blast ; 
The gloomy clouds o'erhang the sky ; 
And man and beast for shelter fly. 

How like this scene is human life ! 
At times, no care, no toil, no strife. 
Disturbs our light and happy way ; 
But all is calm and bright and gay. 
Again o'er life's fair scene is cast 
The gloomy cloud and threatening blast 
'Tis then that we for shelter fly. 
And find it only from on high. 



119 



TO A TALL GIRL. 



I MET you but once ; yet never 

Will my eyes the bright vision forget : 

Like a star that shines brightly for ever. 
In the sky of my heart you are set. 

By night, when I dream of past pleasure, 
To my bedside on tiptoe you steal. 

Saying, *^ Dearest, my height is the measure 
Of the true love for you that I feel." 



120 



TO A VAIN GIRL. 



You are pretty enough, the Lord knows. 

In form, in feature, or face ; 
And I'll warrant — for thus the world goes — 

You believe that you are quite ^^ a grace ; *' 

Or ^^ angel," whose wings are not grown 

Sufficiently long yet to fly 
To a region more purely your own 

Than this which you now occupy. 



121 



TO A PRETTY GIRL. 



You came here to gladden our eyes 
"With beauty so artless and free^ 

That of course it can give no surprise 
If we ofier true homage to thee. 

For, while seeming yourself not to know 
How completely our hearts you enchain. 

Your eloquent eyes speak ; and so. 
If we try not to love you, 'tis vain. 



122 



BATTLE-SONG OF UNCAS. 



Rouse, ye warriors ! rouse to battle ! 

Bind the quiver on the back ; 
Let the fierce, revengeful war-whoop 

Echo on the foeman's track. 

Paint the face, and scar the features ; 

Don the lordly eagle's plume ; 
Fix the hatchet in the girdle ; 

Shout the focman's fearful doom. 

Let the scalping-knife be sharpened. 
That each mighty brave may bear 

At his belt, as honored trophies. 
Recking locks of foeman's hair. 

Swear to bravely do, or perish 
In our tribe's revengeful strife : 

Blood for blood we will repay them, 
Scalp for scalp, and life for life. 



BATTLE-SONG OF UNCAS. 123 

Let the thought of wigwam burning. 
And of squaw and pappoose fair. 

By the foeman fired and butchered. 
Nerve the heart to do and dare. 

So, when our revenge is glutted 

By the heaps of hostile slain. 
And in foeman's blood we've blotted 

From our tribe the hated stain, — 

Chiefs and sages of all nations. 
At their council-fires, shall tell 

How the braves of fair Mohegan 
Fiercely fought, and bravely fell. 



124 



HUMBUG. 



A SONNET. 



Inflated prince ! thy right is undisputed. 

By red republican, democrat, or tory. 

To reign supreme in all thy ^^ Buncombe *' glory. 

Though it is true thy ranks are still recruited 

From every race, and are all hues and sizes ; 

Yet still what most philosophers surprises 

Is, that they all so bravely cling together 

In every kind of work and every kind of weather. 

No treason in thy camp ; mankind in wonder 

Gazes upon thy banners, which the whole air fills. 

And dearly bow unto thy wordy thunder. 

Pealed in defence of either laws or pills. 

Dearly they bow ; for, though you kindly make 

them. 
They, as true subjects, are obliged to take them. 



125 



INTOLERANCE. 



Despite of the long preambles 
That our laws of state display, — 

Making fair unto all the promise. 
Ye shall worship as ye may, — 

There lingers the feud unchristian 
That of old raged the sects among ; 

Though its spirit, then shown in battle. 
Now bitterly fights with the tongue. 

And the question is not quite idle 
Which some are disposed to ask: 

Is the bad world's reformation 
Not rather a hopeless task, — 

So long as the mild forbearance 
The Saviour's doctrines teach. 

In their crusades 'gainst one another. 
Are forgotten by those who preach ? 



126 



TO LIZZIE. 



Dreaming of thee by night, love, 

And thinking of thee by day. 
Hath come to be such delight, love, 

I powerless yield to its sway. 
Sleep hath no ^^ daggers " to wound, love ; 

Toil is bereft of its sting ; 
Since unto thee, swift bound, love. 

Doth every thought take wing. 

What were my life without thee ? 

A struggle devoid of an aim ; 
Seeking to gather about me 

The riches of earth, or its fame. 
Ne'er would I strive to attain them. 

Daring toil and danger to meet. 
But for this hope, — should I gain them, 

Fling them I may at thy feet. 



TO LIZZIE. 137 

All I have felt of past pleasure. 

All tliat I hope will be mine 
In years yet to be, I may measure 

By this love thou giv'st me of thine. 
And, if to my earnest endeavor 

Dame Fortune should bountiful be. 
Success, in what shape soever. 

My heart will attribute to thee. 



128 



CONSTANCY. 



Methought, dear friend ! that time had changed 

The ties and sympathies of yore ; 
And that our hearts^ from love estranged. 

Would hold communion never more. 

'Tis but to grasp again thy hand, 

And gaze into thine earnest eyes. 
To feel that love still holds command ; 

That pure affection never dies. 

Unlike to passion's sudden gush, 

"Which, as a streamlet swollen by rain, 

A moment raves with raging rush. 
Then sinks to nothingness again. 

It dieth not ; but, calm and slow, 

Like some broad stream whose waters roll 

To ocean with unceasing flow. 

It courses changeless through the soul. 



129 



TRANSLATION FEOM HORACE. 



The mother of Love has compelled me 

At thy feet, fair Glycera, to bow ; 
And fetters that formerly held me 

Are fastened more rigidly now. 
Inflamed by thy wonderful beauty, 

I bask in the light of thy smile. 
Neglectful of every duty 

That calls for my efforts the while. 

In vain would I sing of the glory 

That Scythian heroes have won ; 
For my song will revert to the story 

That tells all the mischief you've done. 
Deserting her island of roses, — 

Her Cyprus afar in the sea, — 
Venus comes, and this mandate discloses. 

That I give up my whole heart to thee. 



130 



POPPING THE QUESTION. 



Dost thou love me, dear Kate^ — dost thou love 



me? 



To this question an answer pray make ; 
For I swear, by the bright stars above me. 

If you do not, my heart it will break. 
IVe been stretched on the rack of suspension 

All silent and hopeless so long. 
That my brain, overtaxed by the tension. 

Can find poor relief in a song. 

If you love me, dear Kate, let me hear you ; 

If you do, or you do not, speak out ; 
For, the Lord knows, I cannot be near you. 

And be thus encompassed by doubt. 
Soft answers and quiet hand-squeezes 

I cannot now longer endure ; 
And, though my blunt frankness displeases, 

I must have from you pledges more sure. 



POPPING THE QUESTION. 131 

Do you love me, dear Kate ? Will you not, love, 

Give in answer an honest reply ; 
And, in sensible English, tell what, love. 

Are the chances on which I rely ? 
Long years have I dallied and dangled 

At your heels wherever you went ; 
And it's time our " love-snarl " was untangled 

And adjusted by mutual consent. 



183 



TO 



A SONG for thee, dearest, 

I send from afar. 
Where my feet have been roaming 

"Without guide or star. 
Wilt thou set it to music, 

And sing when I come. 
Disheartened, world-weary. 

Back, back to our home ? 

Let the tune be a zephyr. 

Melodious and free. 
As true unto nature 

As thou art to me. 
Which thy soul can embrace 

As if 'twere a friend. 
And my words and thy music 

In melody blend. 



TO 133 

Not a sad tune nor gay one. 

But half-way between : 
High gladness, deep sorrow, 

Let it intervene. 
That so it interprets 

By musical art 
How we laugh when we meet. 

And shed tears when we part. 



134 



DEDICATION TO A COMMONPLACE BOOK. 



Here is a book devoted to the whims 

Of every fish that in Life's water swims : 

The poet here may let his fancy loose^ 

And in soft numbers prove he's not a goose ; 

Here may the artist try his gifted power. 

And mayhap while away a pleasant hour ; 

The sportsman, too, shall ever find a place 

His merry thoughts and stirring scenes to trace. 

And oh that I should be so late to sing 

How prized will be verse, prose, — ay, any thing, — 

From you, fair ones ! who make a heaven of earth. 

And, smiling, turn our sadness into mirth ! 

Art, prose, philosophy, whatever 

The fancy prompts, may be recorded here ; 

"Whate'er the author's name will not disgrace 

Is suited to this "Book of Commonplace." 



DEDICATION TO A COMMONPLACE BOOK. 135 

x\ll, all are welcome ; and 'tis all the same 
If you, for lack of wit, but leave your name. 
Then turn, kind reader ! turn you from this scrawl, 
And join this literary fancy-ball : 
Whatever character you'd represent, 
"With it the managers will be content 



136 



A LOVE-SONG. 



When the stars are all out in the sky, love, 

With the moon, their fair guardian, too. 
Wilt thou give him a thought or a sigh, love, 

Who in both has been faithful to you ? 
Wilt thou breathe to the east wind, that bloweth 

Towards the land where his footsteps have 
strayed, 
A prayer, that, wherever he goeth. 

His journey be happily made ? 

When the night-bird is singing its song, love, 

At midnight alone to its mate. 
Wilt thou sit by thy window, and long, love, 

For one they have told thee to hate ? 
Wilt thou not, when dark rumor comes nearest. 

Thy faith with its venom to kill. 
Defy all the slander thou hearest. 

And give him thy confidence still ? 



A LOYE-SONG. 137 

Thou wilt ; for in fancy he hears^ love^ 

Thy prayer on the east wind to-night ; 
And sees through his own thy tears, love. 

Fall and flash in the moonbeam's light. 
Though falsehood and slander pursue, love. 

His footsteps wherever they stray. 
No more will he doubt thou art true, love. 

To the vows of an happier day. 



138 



THE SIGH. 



I BRING relief to the imprisoned grief 

Of the mother's anxious breast. 
As her watch she keeps where her infant sleeps. 

By the clods of the graveyard pressed. 
When the bosom heaves, as the wanderer leaves 

The warm embrace of home. 
And o'er ocean's track looks sadly back, 

'Tis I to his lips that come. 

From the breast of Love I'm breathed to prove 

The depth of the blind god's dart : 
Though my words are few, yet they're always 
true; 

For they come alone from the heart. 
'Mid the battle's smoke, by me is spoke 

The warrior's last regret. 
That he roamed so far for that treacherous star 

In Glory's chaplet set. 



THE SIGH. 139 

I'm the magic glass^ on which then pass 

Before his glazing eyes 
The sunny beams and golden dreams 

Of childhood and its skies ; 
The forest-glade, where his footsteps strayed ; 

The cottage-home, beneath 
Those clustering vines that around it twines 

In many a flowery wreath. 

I humble power in its proudest hour 

By my gentle, sad refrain ; 
And the passion-wiles, that the cloistered aisles 

Of the scheming breast contain, 
I make to wither, as I hasten thither 

With Pity by my side ; 
And with earnestness, yet tenderness. 

Softly, softly chide. 



140 



HEROIC. 



Art thou of heroic mould. 

Thou hast chance to do 
Deeds as great as those of old 

Coming down to you. 
Earth in bounteousness spreads out 

Many a field to win : 
"Would you go bereft of doubt. 

And the strife begin ? 

Where the parching desert-sand 

Glares beneath the sun, — 
Where the skill of mind or hand 

Nothing yet has done 
To transform the dust and dearth 

Into golden grain, — 
Go ; for there is fame that's worth 

Labor to attain. 



HEROIC. 141 

Where the tyrant's blight has passed 

O'er thy brother's home ; 
And the joys that freedom hast. 

If ever, seldom come : 
When with grief his heart despairs. 

And his eyes are dim. 
Be thou, with thy hopes and prayers. 

Hero unto him. 

Shame to say thou hast no chance 

In these latter days ; 
Shame to yield to old romance 

All true hero-ways. 
Now, when freely earth spreads out 

Many fields to win. 
Would you go bereft of doubt. 

And the strife begin ? 



142 



ABSENCE. 



Lonely and sad is thy lover to-night. 

Though he strive 'mid the throng to be gay ; 

For his fond heart it may not, it cannot, be light. 
When thou, love, art far, far away. 

Deserted and lone, like the sentinel-star. 
As it waits for the dawning of day. 

His soul is aweary, thus wandering afar 
From the friend of his bosom away. 

How welcome is sleep to his sorrowing heart ! 

For then, all unfettered and free. 
His spirit it hastes from its home to depart. 

And hies swift away, love, to thee. 

Ah ! then to thy bosom, so warm and so true. 
By thy lily-white hand he is pressed ; 

And forgot are the cares and the sorrows he knew. 
As he pillows his head on thy breast. 



ABSENCE. 143 

But, alas ! the dear vision, too precious to last. 
With the sleep of the dreamer decays ; 

For the morning must break, and a veil must be 
cast 
O'er the realms of the fairies and fays. 

T?is then that he turns on his pillow to grasp 

The bright fleeting fancy again ; 
But it Cometh not back, and he striveth to clasp 

The blissful deception in vain. 

One thought alone cheers the long, weary day, — 
Sweetly soothes every sorrow and pain ; 

Like a bright star of glory, it gleams o'er his way : 
'Tis the blest thought of meeting again. 



144 



]MY NATIVE STREAM, 



I LOVE thy stream, Connecticut ; 

I love to wander o'er thy strand. 
And muse, as flow thy waters past. 

Bright river of my native land ! 

Here, by thy shore, in days gone by. 
The forest-children loved to roam ; 

Thy rolling stream their loved retreat. 
Thy beauteous vale their chosen home. 

Well loved the forest-daughter by 
Thy stream to sport her hours away ; 

And in her only mirror, thee. 

To watch the witchery of her way. 

But they are gone : along thy vale 
No more is heard their battle-cry ; 

No more the smoke of wigwam curls 
In graceful beauty to the sky. 



MY NATIVE STREAM. 145 

Another race thy valley tills ; 

And other lords, proud stream ! are thine : 
Still onward rolls thy swelling tide, — 

Still seeks as erst the ocean's brine. 

Like thee, the joys pure friendship gives — 
Though pains and pleasures come and go, 

Though sorrows thicken round our path — 
Are ever constant in their flow. 



10 



146 



TO A ROBIK 



Welcome, robin ! welcome, robin ! 

Welcome to thy haunts again, — 
To the upland, to the meadow. 

To the shadowy forest glen ! 

For thy lay is one of gladness, — 

One so happy, free of art. 
It dispels whate'er of sadness. 

There has gathered o'er my heart 

In the long past weary winter, — 
Oh ! it has been very long, — 

Since I heard thy morning carol. 
Or thy witching evening song. 

Welcome, then ! thrice-hearty welcome ! 

Since with thee comes back the showers 
To the budding leaf and blossom, 

And to me those happy hours 



TO A BOBIN. 147 

When the air is filled with music. 

Floating over hill and lea ; 
But, of all its sounds, the sweetest 

Is the note that's trilled by thee. 



148 



THE MEMORIES OF YOUTH. 



Bright^ bright are the pleasures 

Of childhood's gay hours ; 
Nor happier the warblers 

That sing 'mid the bowers 
Than its moments of rapture. 

Its freedom and truth : 
Oh ! bright^ and yet sad, are 

The memories of youth. 

Yes, they brighten the soul 

When we think of its joys. 
And remember the time 

We were gay, laughing boys ; 
When in freedom we sported 

O'er hill and o'er plain. 
And act in our fancy 

Its scenes o'er again. 



THE MEMORIES OF YOUTH. 149 

Yet^ as mourns the sad Indian — 

The lonely and last — 
O'er the doom of his race^ 

O'er the fate of the past ; 
So it saddens to think 

That our spring-time is o'er, — 
That the pleasures of childhood 

Shall greet us no more. 

Yet the heart of that Indian 

"With pleasure rebounds, 
As he hopes soon to roam 

'Mid those blest "hunting-grounds." 
So let us, as the pleasures 

Of youth fade away. 
Live in hopes of those joys 

That shall know no decay. 



150 



A KIND WORD. 



A LITTLE gem from thy heart's mine. 
Its gift above all else I prize ; 

And, ever since it came from thine. 
Close to my heart it safely lies. 

There, valued for the motive pure 

That prompted thee to give unsought. 

It shall for ever be secure. 

Protected by endearing thought. 

The echo of a heavenly voice, — 
That when all else forsook me near. 

Bidding my lonely heart rejoice, — 
This welcome word came to my ear. 

Oh ! they know not, who seem to view 
Earth's love but as a thing of art. 

How much one word like thee may do 
In many a sad and stricken heart. 



151 



A STUDENT'S IDEA OF COMFORT. 



'Tis my idea of comfort 

To sit in the easy-chair 
Of a student's quiet study. 

With none to disturb me there. 
When the light of lamp and ember 

Is flickering faint and low. 
And one cannot but remember 

The friends of long ago. 

They mistake who think that pleasure 

Can be but where eyes are bright ; 
Since my cup has had its measure. 

When alone of an autumn-night. 
As I listened to the creaking blinds. 

And shaking of the pane ; 
As the wind swept round the corner. 

And pattered loud the rain. 



153 A student's idea of comfort. 

As for me, 'tis all enjoyment. 

This quiet talk of late 
With friends my fancy pictures 

In my study's glowing grate. 
We have no worded compliments. 

No loud regards ; but yet. 
In these our silent communings. 

There's much I can't forget. 



153 



DESPAIR. 



Despair, you have come to the wrong place 
to-day 
To barter your products of sadness and gloom ; 
And, knock at my heart's door as hard as you may. 
If you listen, you'll hear from within the clear 
^^Nay!" 
I open not now, since I know unto whom. 

You may stand in the rain till it drenches your 
skin. 
And plead for a shelter you no more will get : 
Though you catch your death-cold, I care not a 

pin : 
You had better be dead, than living within 

The heart where your footsteps are unerased 
yet. 



154 DESPAIR. 

It is hard, no doubt it is quite hard, to bear 
At the door of a warm heart thy venomous 
sting. 
And feel, that, despite of thy burdens of care. 
That heart is too wise those burdens to share. 
And can give thee thy deserts, detestable thing ! 



155 



TO 



They tell me youth can never feel 

A passion like to love ; 
Can never know the pangs that have 

Their origin above. 

It may be so ; perhaps this heart 
Ne'er felt the ^^ blind god's" power : 

But if on thee to think by day ; 
To dream at midnight hour ; — 

To wish thee all the joy that earth. 
And heaven above, can give ; 

To dwell with rapture on thy words. 
And in thy image live, — 

Be love, then I have known its power ; 

Have felt its burning ray ; 
Have had its madness in my brain ; 

Have bowed before its sway. 



156 TO 

Oh. ! say, hath ne'er one kindly glow 

Of feeling, all for me. 
Ne'er stirred thy soul ? and is it still 

From every passion free ? 



157 



MY BOOK. 



Come here, old honest friend, — ^^nay book/' 

This winter-night, so drear and cold ; 
Come here, from out thy dusty nook. 

And chat with me as wont of old. 
My lamp, grown dim, I will retrim ; 

My fire shall be replenished too ; 
For this is meet when two friends greet. 

And such two friends as I and you. 

My life has changed since last we met. 

Long years ago, — that summer-time 
When every hour my thoughts were set 

To music breathed in thy sweet rhyme. 
My life has changed ; but still a place 

I've kept within my heart for thee ; 
And, of my former friends, no face 

Would now than thine more welcome be. 



158 MY BOOK. 

Nor is this strange, when I reflect 

How thoughtless late I've been of you, 
Who, in despite of cold neglect. 

Have always unto me been true ; 
Who always had some word of cheer 

Just fitting for my mood of mind. 
And one that I believed sincere. 

As it was just and pure and kind. 

Then leave, old friend, thy dusty place ; 

Bring back the light of happier days ; 
And, as we sit thus face to face, 

Rechant to me thy charming lays ; 
For they have power to wean my heart 

From worshipping at Mammon's shrine 
By many a gem which poet-art 

Hath formed from truths and thoughts divine. 



159 



A LOGHOUSE LYRIC. 



Let us sigh not at cold weather ; 

But, with cheery hearts and stout. 
Let us put our wits together. 

And contrive to keep it out. 
Many ^^ cracks,'' that now are catching 

All the autumn-wind that blows. 
With a very little patching. 

It completely would oppose. 

We may cluster round, and shiver 

O'er, the scanty coals that glow 
On our hearthstone ; yet that never 

Will protect us from our foe. 
We may fan each dying ember. 

And for friends' assistance wait ; 
Still I think we'd best remember 

That it often comes too late. 



160 A LOGHOUSE LYRIC. 

Though our wants are often many, 

We can really make them few ; 
For we know the best of any 

Just how little ought to do. 
For we know that purest pleasure 

Is neither bought nor lent ; 
But is a priceless treasure. 

That Cometh from content. 



161 



A COMPLAINT. 



My heart is sad and lonely all ; 

My soul is sick from sorrow : 
The present brings no pleasant thoughts^ 

And dreary looks the morrow. 

I seem an outcast in the worlds 
A wretch among my fellows : 

No present joy, no future hope. 
Life's landscape sweetly mellows. 

In vain I guard a heart that's frail ; 

In vain I watch its weakness ; 
For every sunny spot that's there 

Is turned to barren bleakness. 

But, oh ! its load it cannot bear. 

It cannot brook, for ever : 
Ere long, the hand of grim Despair 

Its cord of life must sever. 
11 



162 A COMPLAINT. 

Oh ! then, deal kindly with its weakness, 

Lest, if driven to despair. 
None, in all its barren bleakness, — 

None can know what it may dare. 



i 
163 



THE MISSIVE. 



To that sweet home among the hills 

Go freighted with my earnest love, 
And tell to her the thought that fills 

My weary heart where'er I rove. 
Go, talk with her, when none are nigh, — 

And of my words no meaning miss, — 
Of shadowed brow and tearful eye. 

Of beating heart and phantom kiss. 

To that sweet home go, wanderer, go ! 

And to its inmate's bosom bear 
The words that only she may know. 

The lonely sigh, the heartfelt prayer. 
Go, take to her my thought, which brings 

Her sacred image often near ; 
And ask, amid thy questionings. 

If I, as once, am still as dear. 



164 THE MISSIVE. 

Go, sit with her beneath the boughs 

Of the large linden near the lake. 
Where first we met, and uttered vows. 

And promised that not one should break. 
Go, talk with her, and tell her, ^^ No ! 

The roamer never will forget 
That votive pledge of long ago : 

His hope and faith are in it yet." 



165 



HOME-HAPPINESS. 



Success, Love ! our toil hath crowned 

Our star of life at last is bright ; 
The treasure which we sought is found : 

Then let us count it o'er to-night. 
When there are no rude gazers near 

To steal a glance of that pure gold 
For years we have been hoarding here. 

And which is happiness all told. 

Oh ! those were days of dubious light 

When with despair we boldly strove ; 
Our only armor for the fight. 

The close-linked mail of mutual love ; 
When both our hearts did fondly yearn 

Towards aspirations pure and high. 
And made resolve to fairly earn 

The home we were too poor to buy. 



166 HOME-H APPINES S . 

And we have reached, at last, success ; 

'Tis here to-night the gem we prize : 
I feel it in thy warm caress. 

And see it in thy telltale eyes. 
The doubts and fears, the toil of years. 

All, all indeed that went amiss. 
Give place to joy that now endears 

Our home to us with purest bliss. 



167 



REMEMBER THE POOR. 



'Tis night ! and, oh ! 'tis such a night 

As fills the soul with dread ; 
For mournful howls the driving blast. 

Like wailings o'er the dead. 

All, all without is dark and drear ; 

No stars in kindness gleam ; 
The silver moon lends not her light ; 

And blackness rules supreme. 

The earth's in icy fetters bound ; 

All nature's cold and dead ; 
Sharp cuts the cold, — the piercing cold ; 

Fierce howls the storm o'erhead. 

And, oh ! on such a night as this. 

Ye men of goodly store. 
When sitting by your firesides bright, 

Remember then the poor ; — 



168 REMEMBER THE POOR. 

And think, as howls the storm without. 
As drives the bleak wind past. 

How many of thy fellow-men. 

From want, will breathe their last. 

And canst thou think on this unmoved. 

Nor feel a pitying glow. 
When but a trifle from thy wealth 

Might stay the hand of woe ? 

Then give, give kindly, to the poor ; 

Relieve their want and pain : 
Be sure thy treasure thus bestowed 

Shall tenfold come again. 



169 



"SHE SLEEPS." 



She sleeps in the wildwood, away 

From the noise of the world and its strife ; 

She sleeps where the light zephyrs play. 
And Nature with beauty is rife ; — 

Where the sweet forest-birds she delighted to hear. 
Ere to her was the sleep of the tomb. 

Above her their carols sing merry and clear ; 
Where flowers are brightest in bloom. 

And thither to come there are few that stray ; 

Still fewer, perhaps, that care 
For the fate of one, unknown to the gay. 

Who sleeps for eyer there. 

She sleeps alone ; but she sleeps as well 
As if thousands bent o'er her to sigh. 

Or the sculptured stone had been reared to tell 
Her name to the passer-by. 



170 



LETTERS, 



Angels that visit us, bringing the hands 

And hearts of our friends to cheer us 
When we are away in stranger lands. 

And none that we love are near us : 
Angels that bring us what we most crave, — 

The food of our every endeavor ; 
The love that pursueth o'er mountain and wave 

The roamer, forsaking him never : 

• 
Angels that visit us, — angels of hope ; 

That breathe on our efforts the blessing 
Of home ; the prayer, that we fail not to cope 

With dangers that round us are pressing : 
Angels that bring to us duly the call 

Which affection doth send us delaying, — 
** Come home ! " 'tis the prayer of each and of all ; 
^^ Oh ! why need you be longer staying ? " 



171 



THOUGHTS AT SUNSET. 



As, at the peaceful close of day. 
The golden sunlight fades away 
Until its last faint, glimmering ray 

Is swallowed up in night ; 
So, soon our day of life shall close. 
And we shall sink to soft repose 
Where blooms the lily and the rose. 

And quenched shall be our light. 

But all unlike shall set each sun. 
According to the race we've run ; 
According as we've lost or won 

That all-important fight 
That man is placed on earth to wage 
In every clime, in every age. 
And girding on his arms to engage 

For virtue and for right. 



173 THOUGHTS AT SUNSET. 

For as in gloom the sunliglit dies. 

And threatening clouds o'erspread the skies, 

And stormy winds and tempests rise. 

That fierce and madly rave ; 
So goes the sinner to his tomb 
In deep despair, in fear and gloom. 
With no exemption from his doom. 

No hope beyond the grave. 

But as in glory sinks to rest 
The golden day-god in the west. 
With crimson shield and purple crest 

Reflected on the sky ; 
So fades the Christian's glorious light. 
As cheered by hopes and prospects bright. 
With all the joys of heaven in sight. 

He lays him down to die. 



173 



THE BACHELOR'S MISTAKE. 



Oh ! once it was my soul's delight 

To boast of living single ; 
Alone at ease to sit at night. 

Away from jar and jingle. 

Ah ! what a blessed life, thought I, 

Is this that I am passing ! 
No noisy brats with hue and cry 

My peaceful hours harassing ; — 

No household cares to vex my mind ; 

No partner round me scolding ; 
No hopeful sons my back behind 

Their mischief-councils holding ; — 

No paltry shopping to be done. 
That wives are always doing : 

" A penny, papa, — only one : " 
Was free from all such wooing. 



174 THE bachelor's mistake. 

Methought I was a happy man. 
My prime Havana smoking ; 

And, ah ! ha, ha ! the marriage-ban ! 
I named it but in joking. 

But 'tis in vain : upon my life 
I've come to this conclusion. 

That life without a loving wife 
Is full of sad confusion. 

For once a lass did bait a hook. 
To ^^ nibhle " oft besought me ; 

And, by her words, her way, her look, 
At last, I vow, she caught me. 

I find, now I'm a married man. 
My former reasonings folly : 

Let men be bachelors they who can : 
I couldn't; could I, Molly ? 



175 



JEALOUSY, 



Give not the cruel thought its sway. 
Lest, seared and blighted, pine away 

The hopes and joys we cherish^ 
And warm affection at its birth. 
And all that makes a heaven of earth, 

By foul suspicion perish. 



176 



THE CHARGE. 



Shouts on the sulphurous air ; 
And death-strokes thick and fast ; 
And a wilder beat in breasts that dare 

The war-cloud's scathing blast. 

With frenzy glares each eye ; 
While bursts in a blended breath 
From the serried ranks the charging cry. 

Victory or death ! 

The rushing wave of life 
Rolls onward to its doom ; 
And nought is heard but the sound of strife 

From out the gathered gloom. 

The clash of steel, and the battle-yell. 
The hour has given birth. 
Are strangely blent with the sad farewell 

The dying make to earth. 



THE CHARGE. 177 

And through the coming night, 
Where yester saw such quiet. 
Ah ! hear the wails of the maimed in fight, — 

Sad wrecks of the battle's riot ! 

Hands uplifted clasp. 
As life's red fountain dries ; 
And, o'er the plain, the dying gasp 

In death's last agonies. 

And thus, 'mid hellish deeds. 
Is won the soldier's fame : 
Yet what, forsooth, to him who bleeds. 

The prestige of a name ? 

With curses on his lips. 
And hatred in his heart. 
What an awful hour for life's eclipse, — 

For his soul from earth to part ! 

But will this never cease ? 
Does not the time draw near 
When always the bloom and smile of peace 

Shall light this earthly sphere ? — 
12 



178 THE CHARGE. 

When nations shall be friends, 
Each willing to maintain 
This pledge, — that war, which sadly rends. 

Shall ne'er be loosed again ? 



179 



NATURE'S SOLITUDE. 



Where the murmuring brooklet's stealing 
Through the silent, shady glen. 

Now its waters bright revealing. 
Now 'midst verdure lost again ; — 

Where the bustle, din, and rattle 

Of the busy world around 
Yields to silence, save the prattle 

Of the songsters, — merry sound ! — 

Where the lonely wild-flower, springing 

Undisturbed by mortal tread. 
Perfume on the breezes flinging. 

Meekly lifts its modest head ; — 

Where Dame Nature undisputed 

O'er her rural empire reigns ; 
Where cool breezes, unpolluted. 

Waft their fragrance o'er the plains ; — 



180 nature's solitude. 

There I love to wander, musing 
At the peaceful close of day, 

Nature's varied charms perusing. 
Half concealed by shadows gray. 

There my mind is ever turning 
'Mid the scenes of worldly care ; 

And my soul is ever yearning 
To forget its sorrows there. 

There, when life at last is ended. 
Where no stranger-steps intrude, 

I would sleep, my rest defended 
By calm Nature's solitude. 



181 



AN EPITAPH. 



Kind reader ! pause ; set mirth aside ; 

Let serious things thy thoughts engage ; 
For here, in death, neglected lies 

The bottom of the page. 



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